John just ended up taking watch up outside the window of where they were keeping Sammy. He leaned back against the opposite wall and just stared at his son, watched as he slept or moved around, watched as the nurses fussed over him and the doctors checked on him. It was oddly peaceful to do so, just watching a sleeping babe.

So long as he could ignore the wires and machines attached to him, it was peaceful. And peaceful was what he needed now more than anything to try to help him think.

He had no idea what to do, didn't even have the slightest thought in what might be the right way.

Logically, he just wanted his son to be alright and breathing on his own. Logically, he just wanted his family together again. Him, Mary, their boys.

He had to think about this in the right way, no real emotions attached like it had been the moment Bobby had come into the picture, literally.

He knew that he was being ridiculous, he knew that he was over exaggerating the whole thing with Bobby and Mary. He just couldn't help it, the whole notion hurt so much that he found himself lashing out just to try to get rid of the bone deep aching feeling in his chest.

But he had ended up hurting Mary in the process, and that was the last thing that he wanted to do.

But he was so angry. Angry at her, angry at the other Letters.

But most of all, he was angry at himself.

Angry that he let it get to this point. Angry that he hadn't fought for his family harder. Angry that he allowed the older Letters to dictate what they were going to do.

Angry that he brought Mary to the point that she felt like she had no other option but to run away.

He just had no idea what to do or how to do anything or even what was worth doing.

The number one priority right now, was Sammy. Making sure that he was okay and could be away from the machines.

Problem was, there was nothing he or Mary or anyone could do. It was all in the hands of fate and whether there was a god.

And he had no idea about that one. He knew that the men of letters had sightings of angels, even allegedly had angel feathers in their deepest storages. And logically it meant that there had to be a creator of some sort.

But personally? He didn't believe. There was no point in believing in a giant man in the sky looking over them when there was so much bad happening in the world.

No matter what train of thought his mind went to, it always came back around to the same question that was ringing in his head.

What now?

They were back to square one, back to a place where neither of them were willing to budge, he knew Mary and he knew that come high heaven or hell she was going to stand her ground so long as she thought she was doing what was best for the kids.

He couldn't blame her, he was doing the same thing.

The problem was, what they each thought was best was the complete opposite of one another.

He breathed out slowly and tried to think, tried to think outside of the box and what he wanted, what Mary wanted, and tried to see the whole thing from an outsiders point of view.

Mary's biggest thing was that she didn't want the boys to be in the supernatural life. Even in the relative safety of being a Man of Letters she didn't want. She wanted them to have an ordinary life without being touched by the supernatural.

He didn't think that it was possible no matter what side they remained on. Whether it was Letters, Hunters, or normalcy. The threat of the supernatural was always there and it wasn't something that they had the privilege to ignore.

Especially because they both had history in the life. Campbell and Winchester, those names were known not just to people in the life but to the monsters as well.

Which meant that they would be safer with wards and most likely in the bunker with all its protection.

But that would mean that Dean, and most likely Sammy, would have to be sworn in as Men of Letters, only those who are sworn in can choose to live in the bunker full time. Even he wasn't at that stage just yet.

He breathed out slowly, just staring at Sammy, lost in his thoughts as he tried to figure out what to do.

At some point Mary came by, holding Dean close to her chest in her arms. He was tucked under her chin and his eyes were reddened over as if he had been crying. Wordlessly she sat down next to John, facing the window where Sammy was, holding Dean to her and not saying a word as they watched their second son.

After what seemed like forever, Mary let out a deep sigh, curling over Dean as best as she could, just holding him close to her. She almost seemed to hesitate but then moved, delicately placing her head on his shoulder.

John was stiff in place, barely moving, almost like a soldier the entire time. He didn't acknowledge her as she moved, just staring straight ahead at Sammy.

But slowly he brought his arm up and around her shoulders, wrapping it around her, and bringing her close to him. Despite everything else, he could feel the both of them relax against one another as Dean looked up at her and then him. He could see from the corner of his eyes as Dean then turned back to Sammy, leaning back against his mom as he stared at his brother.

It was going to be hard and he knew that there were a lot more things that needed to be said and done before reaching any sort of conclusion.

But he also had a feeling that...they were going to be okay.

They were going to be okay.

They had to be.

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